


Moments of Memories

by momentofclarity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Nostalgia, Reunited AU, Romantic Soulmates, Smut, a bit of, sappyness, there's some old man penis in there, you're so welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentofclarity/pseuds/momentofclarity
Summary: And that’s when his heart stops.It stops only to a second later flutter like the wings of a hummingbird against his ribcage. The noise of the crowd melts into an intangible buzzing in his ears. He stares at the picture and he knows he should question the reason for why his body has suddenly gone haywire, but he doesn’t.Because he knows those eyes, would recognize them anywhere, and now they are staring back at him from a picture on a wall.Reunited AU. Harry Styles met Louis Tomlinson at the age of 6. At the age of 23 he lost him.What happens when he meets him again 36 years later?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. I'm posting my second fic ever. Here we go! (I'm gonna keep this up until I've posted at least 10 I think)
> 
> This one came to me in Copenhagen, so blame Denmark for this ❤
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who've recced, commented on, bookmarked, left kudos and written such lovely, encouraging, absolutely breathtaking things about Them Butterflies. You've given me the courage to keep writing, and now posting this. Thank you!
> 
> Comments and kudos would obviously mean the world to me, please leave a comment if you enjoyed the story or wanna have a chat ❤
> 
> This never happened and never will.

Harry Styles has always considered himself a romantic. Ever since he first heard stories of princesses and happily ever afters, he has dreamt of love stronger than anything, love that defeats the darkest of forces and shines brighter than the sun itself. As the years have passed by, he’s grown to see this side of himself as slightly naïve and silly, but he still never abandoned the idea entirely. The idea, the hope, of everlasting love and his own _always_.

When Harry in his early twenties understood that for him, that kind of happiness would include a charming prince rather than a princess, his mind started drifting to dreams of sparkling eyes, gentle but strong hands, a warm body to curl up next to on the sofa, someone to share his thoughts and worries with, someone to rely on. A few times he even thought he had found it. Thought that this is it - this is the man I’m going to marry. But somehow what kept that from happening seemed to be life itself. When his uni boyfriend preferred spending time at the gym to romantic dinners, when his second boyfriend laughed at the idea of marriage and a life long bond or when his last long term relationship seemed to fall apart under the pressure of mundane routine. A chain of events that sometimes had Harry’s hope faltering and give way to bitterness. Mourning for the things he so desperately wanted but might never have.

Once in a blue moon he has found himself persuaded into giving romance another go. A colleague setting him up with their art collecting cousin or that time his daughter talked him into _online dating_ , but so far his daydreams have surpassed anything Dylan, Said, Victor or Ned could ever offer.

On the night of his 59th birthday he sits contemplating where he has ended up. Surrounded by family but also in some ways so completely alone. When he was young he never even entertained the idea that this would somehow be his destiny.

On the night of his 59th birthday that thought settles like an ache in his bones.

Something tired and sorrowful.

Something like a deep sigh of surrender.

 

\---

 

The gallery consists of a large white room, natural light flooding from sloping windows high in the ceiling. Screen walls create an airy labyrinth that the visitors can saunter through and admire the bold soulful photographs. Harry enjoys the simplicity of the exhibition, no flashy interactive instalments or complicated compositions in the photos. The portraits are straightforward and honest, vibrant in colour. Under each picture there’s a question answered by the person in the photograph.

**What is your greatest regret in life?**

Simple yet somehow monumental. The negative connotation obvious but with room left for hope to shine through. Some answers are short and precise, others evasive - bordering on rambling.

They have been here for no more than 30 minutes and Harry has already lost Daphne among the other visitors, he and his daughter equally prone to distracted daydreaming. His mind is currently occupied with next week’s timetable as something collides with his hip and he’s met by a pair of big round eyes before the flurry of curls disappears onto the next adventure. He grins after the kid as she zig zags between gallery visitors, her fast movements and excited laughter anything but appropriate in this setting. It fills his heart with joy to see such untamed enthusiasm and he chuckles quietly to himself as he makes his way over to the next photo.

And that’s when his heart stops.

It stops, only to a second later flutter like the wings of a hummingbird against his ribcage. The noise of the crowd melts into an intangible buzzing in his ears. He stares at the picture and he knows he should question the reason for why his body has suddenly gone haywire, but he doesn’t.

Because he _knows_ those eyes, would recognize them anywhere, and now they are staring back at him from a picture on a wall.

As blue and irresistibly mischievous as the last time he saw them all those years ago, his gaze is stuck. Long moments pass and he feels like he’s drowning but can’t really be bothered to try and get back to the surface. And then he snaps out of it, his eyes suddenly flitting over the picture in a rush to take in every single detail, every line, every freckle and every shadow of light. His eyes don’t stop until they get stuck on the caption below the picture.

 **Louis. Age 61. Manchester.**  
_My biggest regret in life is not telling my childhood best mate of my true feelings for him. We lost contact when I went out at sea and I haven’t met him for nearly 40 years but… he’s still the one I would call the love of my life. No one else ever even compared._

Harry feels every breath he takes vibrate through his chest and his vision goes a bit blurry as he stares at the words. _Louis. His Louis._ The boy, or perhaps man would be a better description, who so stubbornly has visited his daydreams for as long as he can remember. The one his mind has wandered to after every boring date or bad break up. The one that sometimes, still, makes his cheeks heat up in embarrassment because he feels like an old man with a silly dream. That one is looking back at him, just as breathtakingly striking as he was at 25, and he is telling the world that Harry is the love of his life.

Because there is no other explanation. It was Harry who spent his time as a 6 year old running after Louis on the football field. It was Harry who held a crying 11 year old Louis when his parents got a divorce. It was Harry who laughed with and shouted at and whispered secrets to Louis throughout their entire childhood. It was also Harry who so recklessly, overwhelmingly and completely loved the boy with thunder and stars in his eyes.

“Dad? Dad, are you alright?” Daphne interrupts his dizzying whirlwind of thoughts.

He looks at her worried face and wants to laugh because this is. It’s impossible.

“I’m… I’m alright… I think, just…”

His daughter rubs his arm soothingly as if she’s trying to calm him down and Harry realises he’s breathing as if he just ran a marathon. “Are you sure? Should I call Ivan to pick us up?”

Harry shakes his head and feels a blush rising in his cheeks, “No, don’t be silly, I just…” he takes a deep breath and then turns back to the source of his reaction. “That’s Louis.”

It takes a few moments for Daphne to react, obviously trying to make sense of his actions. “Louis? Who-? Do you mean-? _That_ Louis? _Your_ Louis?” she asks incredulously and looks at the photograph for the first time.

Harry only nods, still completely dumb founded.

“But… _dad_?!” she shrieks as she reads the caption, “He says you- he means you right? He says you’re the love of his life.”

Harry nods again, his mouth dry, the buzzing in his ears starting up again.

Daphne pulls at his arm to get his attention, looking excited and eager, and he thinks that maybe he is too, but it’s difficult to pin down any specific thought or feeling at the moment. “Dad that’s… this is amazing, right? He’s… he loved you.”

At those words the burning in his eyes is soothed by tears blurring his vision and he lets out a shaky breath. “Yes,” he smiles slightly, “It… it seems so.”

 

\---

 

“You have to call them, you just have to.”

Daphne stares at him and looks like this isn’t something that is up for discussion. They are sitting at his dining table eating a Sunday roast he prepared before their trip to the gallery.

“I don’t know, what would I even tell them? Like… they probably don’t know who he is or… I mean, I’ll just sound like an old creep, won’t I?”

“Just- just tell them you recognized the man in the picture and that he’s an old friend or something, it’s not that difficult.”

Harry’s heart beats wildly in his chest at her words because she makes it seem so simple. _“Just call them. Just ask for his contact information. Just do it.”_ He pinches his bottom lip and looks at her, already knowing that he will budge under her stubborn persistence. “Maybe I can give them a call tomorrow…”

“Yes! _Thank you_ ,” Daphne sighs in relief. “You know I’m right, right? You can’t just… _not_ try to get in touch with him.”

“I know, but it’s… it _is_ difficult. And really scary, terrifying really, and they might not even have any way of contacting him so…"

“No I get that but dad… you’re like the most romantic person I know and I’ve never heard you talk about anyone, not even Will, the way you talk about Louis and just… now this? What kind of destiny bullshit is that? You know you have to try.”

He cracks up at her words, excitement bubbling nervously in his belly. “Yeah… it’s… it’s kind of ridiculous when you think about it.”

“It’s absolutely bonkers but you _have to_ call them.”

 

\---

 

The students of his morning class probably think he has half way to lost it with how distracted he is. He barely got any sleep and his stomach is rolling with nerves. At lunch he looks up the phone number to the gallery and enters it into his phone book with shaking hands. When he’s finally made it through a whole day surrounded by Monday tired secondary school pupils, he rides the long route home on his bicycle and takes his time climbing the stairs to his flat. He tries to act as if he doesn’t usually hurry home after work and as if he doesn’t hate climbing the stairs, but he’s painfully aware of his nonsensical behaviour.

The thing is - he’s nervous. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he was this nervous about anything. He’s a grown man and all he has to do is make a phone call. The gallery might not even be open today, they might not even pick up, and if they do, they might still not know anything about Louis.

 _Louis_.

He’s what it all comes down to in the end. Every since he saw those striking blue eyes yesterday he hasn’t been able to think about anything else. His mind a mess of old memories and not-quite-so-old fantasies of what-ifs.

He sits down at the kitchen table and pulls out his phone. He knows it’s just one call and that if they don’t pick up, he doesn’t have to call again. Then he tried but he couldn’t reach them and that’s that. His heart speeds up and he takes a deep breath to try and calm himself, sweat breaking out over his back as the signal beeps into his ear.

“Jackson York Gallery, how can I help you?” a bright voice answers on the other line.

Fuck. Buggering rickety _fuck_. “Eeh hi… sorry, umm… I was at your gallery yesterday."

“Oh, that’s lovely to hear, I hope you enjoyed it,” the person says, tone professionally pleasant.

“Yes, absolutely, it was very nice, lovely atmosphere,” he rambles, the other person probably wondering what the hell the point of the phone call is.

“Wonderful, you’re welcome back any time.”

“Thank you, I think I will… come back, sometime, I mean.” _Jesus get a grip_. “Actually umm… I had a question about the photographer.”

“Oh,” the other person sounds relieved. “Her name is Nina Shah, we’re delighted to work with her for this exhibition.”

“Yes, she’s very talented, umm…” _Out with it._ “The things is, I saw an old friend of mine in one of the photographs and I was wondering…” He winces at his own awkwardness. “Is there any way I could get in contact with him?”

“Oh, I’m not sure… I’m sorry sir but, we don’t have any information on any of the participants.”

A mix of relief and deep disappointment settles in his gut, “Oh, that’s… that’s understandable. Well, thanks for your help, have a good day,” he hurtles on, wanting to end the call as quickly as possible.

“Wait! We have a phone number to Ms Shah’s studio, maybe you could try there?”

 _Oh._ “Erhm, yes, maybe that could work…” he says, mouth suddenly parched.

Harry gets the phone number from the gallery person and ends the call, staring at the numbers scribbled on an old receipt.

One step closer. Another chance. He wants to throw up.

Before he’s able to change his mind he punches in the numbers and holds his breath. One beep. Two beeps. Three, four and five and then, “Shah Studio, you’re talking to Kelly.”

“Hi, erhm… my name is Harry Styles and I have a question about the exhibition at the Jackson York Gallery,” he gets out, nearly stumbling over the words as he’s determined to be a little more… coherent, during this phone call.

“Sure, what’s on your mind Mr Styles?” the person, Kelly, asks.

“Um, well, I… I saw an old friend of mine in one of the photographs and I was wondering if there’s any way for me to… contact him?” So much for coherent.

“Oh really? What a lovely coincidence! But erhm, well, we can’t exactly leave out information like that Mr Styles,” Kelly says firmly but with an apologetic undertone.

“No, no of course not, I’m… I didn’t mean to bother you I just- sorry,” Harry says and now there is no relief, only disappointment.

This is it. The end of the line.

“You know what, why don’t you give me your info and I’ll ask Nina to forward it to your friend yeah? Then they can contact you instead?” Kelly says, hopeful.

“Yes, yeah that would be… that would be great, thank you,” Harry says, his heart rate picking up again.

Giving her his phone number and address (just in case), Harry gets a little dizzy with what is happening. He might not get to talk to Louis directly, Louis might not call him back, but Louis _will_ get his phone number. Louis will know he saw the picture. Louis will know Harry is in the same city, maybe only a few blocks away, who knows?

“So, who is the friend you want to get in contact with?” Kelly asks.

“Louis. Louis Tomlinson. If that’s still his last name… It only said Louis in the caption,” Harry says and it suddenly dawns on him that Louis Tomlinson might as well be happily married with 5 kids and be named something else entirely. He wonders briefly if he’s lost his mind completely.

“Oh…” Kelly says as if she just put the pieces together. “Are you the childhood friend then Mr Styles?”

Harry coughs into his fist, heat blossoming over his cheeks, “Yes I- I think so.”

“Alright then, I’ll _make sure_ Nina gives him your information, I think it’s lovely you called.”

“Yeah, umm… thank you so much for your help.”

“No problem, I hope you can get in contact with each other again, wouldn’t that be something?” Kelly says.

“Yes, yes it would,” Harry agrees and smiles softly, something warm and fuzzy curling in his stomach.

 

\---

 

As the days pass by something warm and fuzzy is decidedly replaced by gnawing nerves and every single self doubt Harry has ever had. Who does he think he is? What did he think would happen? That Louis would fall over himself to get in contact with him? His answer to the question in the exhibition might have been nothing but a stroke of nostalgic sentimentality. Louis probably has a happy settled life with a long time partner and here Harry is acting like a lovesick teenager, chasing after him just because he saw his picture in a gallery. Daphne always calls him a hopeless romantic and that’s exactly how he feels - hopeless, naïve and pathetic.

On Sunday afternoon he has all but given up. He tried and he failed. For some reason it makes sadness take over his body, making every move slow and heavy. He’s been staring at the same page of the book he’s reading for the past few minutes, taking small sips of red wine as he tries to clear his head enough to makes sense of the words in front of him.

When his phone rings he takes a deep breath and prepares himself to let Daphne suffer through a long rant about his misery. “Hi,” he says, trying not to whine into the receiver. There are _some_ limits to what his daughter is supposed to deal with when it comes to her sad old father.

“Erh, hi, is this Harry? Harry Styles?” a raspy, distinctly not his daughter’s, voice comes through and Harry nearly spills wine all over himself as he sits up.

“Yes! This is he, I’m him,” he rambles and has to close his eyes for a moment to calm down.

It might not even be him… but it is isn’t it?

Harry can nearly feel it, like a whisper from something in the past.

Airy laughter fills his ears and makes his heart thunder with familiarity. “Hi, it’s Louis Tomlinson, Nina Shah gave me your number.”

“Hi, yeah I- figured. I saw the exhibition.”

“Yeah she said. What are the chances, huh?” Louis says and he sounds so at ease, the complete opposite of how Harry feels at the moment.

“I know, I couldn’t really believe my eyes,” he chuckles nervously followed by a few beats of silence. “I’m happy you called.”

“Yes of course, I… I couldn’t believe it when Nina told me, I… how’ve you been?”

Harry can’t help the grin that spreads over his face at that. “Over the past 30-something years you mean?”

Louis laughs again and Harry remembers how addicted he used to be to that sound, especially when he was the cause of it. “Yeah, you know, just a short recap.”

Harry wonders if Louis’ eyes are crinkling up at the corners like they always used to. “Well actually I was wondering… if you wanted to meet up sometime? Maybe for dinner, I could prepare a power point and everything.”

Another laugh. “Yeah sure, sounds great, I’d like that,” Louis rasps out, light and so soft Harry thinks he’d get weak in the knees if he were standing.

“Good, wonderful, so, umm… when would be a good time for you?” He’s a sodding teacher, how difficult can it be to put together a proper sentence?

“Whenever really, don’t have that much on my plate at the moment, to be honest.”

Okay so… when is too soon, too eager? What rules apply when you are meeting up with the man you’ve spent the past 36 years pining after? “How about Friday, would that be alright?”

“Sure, perfect, did you have a place in mind or..?” This is happening, this is actually happening.

“Maybe Il Cibo? Do you know it?” Harry cringes slightly, wondering if it’s too romantic a setting.

“Yeah, absolutely, love Italian.”

“Okay, so. See you there at 8? I can make reservations,” Harry says and he really just wants to hang up before Louis can change his mind.

“Lovely, I’m… I’m looking forward to seeing you Harry.”

“Yeah, me too, I wasn’t sure you’d call,” Harry says and he hates how insecure he sounds.

Louis is quiet for a few moments before answering, “Of course I did, thank you for making the effort,” and his honesty makes something scorching and heavy light up in Harry’s chest.

“No problem, see you on Friday then.”

“See ya Harry.”

They hang up and Harry falls back against the couch. He’s meeting Louis. He’s going to see him and talk to him and he’s going to be there.

When Daphne calls a minute later he nearly chokes on his own spit as the shrill signal interrupts his thoughts.

 

\---

 

To say that he’s nervous is an understatement. The past few days he’s managed to forget material for two of his student assignments, he’s barely eaten anything but bananas, tea and biscuits and Daphne has had to talk him out of cancelling his Friday plans every night. By now he’s tried on 6 different shirts in combination with 3 different trousers and he’s called Daphne two times to get her opinion.

Harry Styles is 59 years old but feels like he’s 16 and about to go on his first date. Which, this _isn’t_ a date, but his fluttering stomach and sweaty palms seem to have not received the message.

“Just wear the blue shirt and the grey blazer, handsome and not too up tight,” Daphne says, pretending to be exasperated but he can hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah? You sure? I won’t look too…old? Or like I’m trying to look younger than I am? Oh god can you imagine?” Harry groans and stares at himself in the mirror, eyes flitting over the form fitted blazer and the soft baby blue shirt with the top most buttons open.

“Dad, you do realize you’re not the only one who has aged since you last saw each other right? Like, he might have a huge beer belly or walk with a cane!"

“He’d look good anyhow, did you not see the photograph? He looked… he was breathtaking.”

“And you _know_ you look good for your age, you have those 35 year old mums drooling after you at every parent teacher meeting.”

Harry smiles at that, his popularity with the young mums a constant joke among his co- workers. “Yeah well, this is different,” he says, his voice soft and wrecked with nerves.

“I know, you’ll be fine though, he’s not gonna know what hit him,” Daphne states.

“Oh god, please don’t say things like that, this isn’t… I’m not going there to like, _woo_ him or anything,” he groans into the palm of his hand, cheeks heating up at the implications of what his daughter said.

“Maybe not explicitly but it’s not like you’d mind right? What was it you called him, ‘breathtaking’?”

“I’m hanging up now, I’m going to have a word with your mother about what a rude daughter she’s raised,” he says and tries to sound stern but he can’t keep his cheeks from wavering with a suppressed grin.

Daphne snorts, “Sure dad, now go _woo_ your man,” she says and she’s laughing as he hangs up on her.

 

\---

 

He’s early. Really early and his hands are trembling slightly as he makes his way through the doors of the restaurant.

“Welcome to Il Cibo, do you have a reservation?” the hostess asks him, smile plastered on her face.

He smiles warmly at her and nods, “Good evening, yes - Styles, table for two.”

She checks her computer for his reservation and a small, more genuine, smile flickers across her face. “This way Mr Styles, your company has already arrived.”

Harry stops in his tracks and doesn’t follow her. He just stands there staring at her for a few moments, unable to put one foot in front of the other. Because Louis is here. He’s here in the same room and Harry was _early_ but Louis was _earlier_ and.

Louis is here.

“This way sir,” the hostess repeats and he’s knocked out of his reverie.

“Yes, of course,” he nods, slowly curling his trembling fingers into loose fists at his sides as he follows her. It’s difficult to keep himself from wildly whipping his head around in search for those blue eyes but he takes a deep breath instead, his mouth dry as he tries to swallow.

She leads him into the restaurant, passing tables of families having dinner and couples sharing a bottle of wine. He fumbles with the hem of his sleeve, distracted for a few seconds but then he’s there. Right there in front of him stands Louis Tomlinson and Harry is staring. He knows he’s staring and he knows that the hostess is talking to him but he doesn’t listen. Louis has stood up from his seat and he’s staring too. It’s like a snapshot of a moment that somehow is able to stretch beyond the logistics of time.

One moment containing hundreds of moments.

“A waitress will be back in a minute to take your orders,” the hostess says and her leaving seems to be what it takes to make time and space act normally again.

Harry tears his eyes away from Louis and mumbles a ‘thank you’ in her direction. When he looks up again Louis is wearing a soft smile, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes filled with so many conflicting emotions it’s difficult for Harry to pin any one down.

“Hi,” Louis says and it shouldn’t be possible but he sounds just like the 25 year old Harry talked to all those years ago.

“Hi,” Harry answers and smiles back, his heart fluttering as Louis’ grin widens.

“So… wow huh?” Louis says and laughs slightly, probably trying to ease the tension.

Harry chuckles, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Louis looks at him for a few extra beats, as if he’s measuring him up, then he takes a step closer and pulls Harry into a hug. Harry nearly stumbles into his embrace, caught slightly off guard, but he wraps his arms around Louis and as he takes another breath he has to grasp onto the back of Louis’ jumper because Louis smells like childhood laughter, teenage pining and the heartbreak of a 23 year old and it’s a little overwhelming.

They break away from the tight embrace and at least they’re both decent enough to look bashful about it. 36 years. It sounds unfathomable. Harry’s not quite able to grasp how he’s even lived that long, even less so how it somehow feels like no time has passed at all.

“Heh, erh…I’m sorry I feel like I need to tell you, just- I’m really nervous so if I’m blabbering on too much you need to tell me to shut up, okay?” Louis says and shakes his head a little self deprecatingly, a playful glint in his eyes.

Harry smiles back easily, warmth spreading in his stomach at Louis’ honesty, at how his eyes seem to communicate just as much as the words that leave his mouth.

“Well I’m nervous too if that helps, also not quite convinced that this is actually happening, so… there’s that,” Harry admits.

“Oh, well, maybe we could just pretend this is a strange dream then and get over our selves?”

Harry doesn’t seem to able to stop smiling, “Sounds like a plan, shall we sit?”

“Yeah yeah, good plan,” Louis says and they take the seats opposite each other. Then they start staring again. Harry can’t help it, his eyes flicker over Louis as if he needs to make up for lost time and 36 years is a lot of lost time to make up for. Louis’ arms look toned beneath his grey knitted jumper, shoulders strong and confident, but his face is just as delicate as it was back then, sharp cheekbones and soft thin lips. Skin a golden tan and his eyes are surrounded by deep laughing lines, as if happiness has permanently etched itself onto his features. His hair is streaked white and grey in a short cut quiff, but his eyelashes are as dark and long as ever. He’s handsome. So incredibly breathtakingly handsome that Harry feels a blush creep over his cheeks just by looking at him. He’s the kind of man Harry would notice if he walked passed him on the street. The kind of man he might spend a few moments daydreaming about if he’d met him at a work related event or if they’d made small talk at the grocery store check out. But he’s also _Louis_. Familiar sparkling blue eyes and freckles across his cheek that Harry used to find excuses to brush over with his fingertips. A stranger that Harry knows inside out.

They start off discussing the menu and place their orders when the waitress arrives, both of them going for pasta. “Okay so, if we skip the power point and just do the quick recap, what are you up to these days Harry Styles?” Louis asks and grins cheekily. Harry’s stomach flutters.

“Umm, well, I’m a teacher, secondary school,” Harry answers and takes a sip of water, trying to calm his rabbiting heart.

“Really?” Louis asks, an amused and slightly incredulous look on his face. “Figured you’d be like, I don’t know, a wild life photographer or maybe a best selling author writing under a pseudonym.”

Harry barks out a laugh at that, both fond and slightly embarrassed over his childhood dreams. “Oh god, erhm, well, I guess real life caught up with me…” he smiles down at the table for a few moments. “Just, I really love teaching, it’s- it’s inspiring in it’s own way you know?” When he meets Louis’ eyes he’s watching him intently, as if he’s drinking in every slow word that tumbles from Harry’s lips.

“No of course, I just kid,” Louis shakes his head. “What do you teach then?”

“English and religion,” he says and he hates how much he sort of wants Louis’ approval.

“Nice, that’s… I mean, you were a right little shit in school yourself but I can definitely see it.”

Another laugh escapes Harry, “We both know who got me in trouble most of the time so.”

“Do we now?” Louis says, eyes sparkling as he bites his bottom lip. “Good thing you had those dimples working for ya then, not all of us were so lucky.”

Harry blushes again, sort of mortified and pleased at the same time. “We weren’t that bad,” he says finally.

“Nah, could’ve been worse I guess.”

“Definitely, you should see the kids these days with their _phones_ and _technology_ and what not,” Harry says and shakes his head in exaggerated exasperation.

It takes Louis about 3 seconds to catch on that he’s joking and he cracks up, the wrinkles by his eyes deepening further and he looks delighted. “Oh yeah, a lost generation truly,” he tags on.

Harry chuckles, “How about you then?” and he’s so curious he can’t stop himself from leaning forward slightly.

“Oh eh, well, been a bit all over the place really,” Louis says, putting his clasped hands on the table in front of him. “But just retired last year actually.”

“From doing what?” Harry wonders after Louis’ vague answer.

“Oh heh yeah, made Captain at 35, so been working a few different ships since.”

“So you- you really stayed at sea? All this time?” Harry asks and he doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Louis’ longing to explore the world was what tore everything apart after all.

“Yeah, had myself a bit of a love affair with the sea I guess, couldn’t really tear myself from her until I busted my knee and no one wanted good ole Cap’ Tomlinson anymore,” he says. “Guess I could’ve gone on a smaller ferry or something but that was never really my thing, figured I’d try to find some steady ground under my feet.”

“Wow that… sounds very adventurous,” Harry says softly. This part of Louis’ life is one that he knows nothing about. He remembers how Louis used to work on the fishing boats down by the dock after he finished school. How he always talked about how much he loved the sea and wanted to become ship captain one day. It’s a bit surreal to hear it all came true.

“Nah, I mean, sure I’ve been a lot of places and met a lot of people, but it’s also just a job yeah? Still lots of paper work to get through,” he laughs, obviously down playing the romantic side to it.

Their food arrives shortly thereafter and they dig in, exchanging small glances over the table that make Harry’s stomach flutter each time.

Suddenly Louis takes a deep breath, settles his fork down against the plate and looks at Harry intently. “So… you saw the exhibition yeah?”

Harry’s heart that had calmed down a little bit during their previous conversation starts beating wildly against his ribcage again. This can’t be healthy, he’s too old for this, he’ll have a bloody heart attack right here at the table. “Yes I did, it was lovely…” Harry starts out and he doesn’t have any idea of how to continue.

“And you saw my picture?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods and it’s a bit ridiculous but he refuses to be the one to bring it up.

“So you…” Louis fiddles with his napkin before taking another deep breath, looking up at Harry. “So then you saw my answer to the question?”

How a man in his 60s with such a confidant stance and exuberant energy can look so vulnerable and soft is lost on Harry, but it makes something clench harshly in his chest. “Yes, that’s…” he breaks eye contact for a moment before gathering enough courage to look into Louis’ eyes. “That’s actually one of the reasons why I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah? How-how come?” Louis says, voice airy and slightly strained.

“Louis I…” Harry starts but then it’s like something breaks within him. When he looks into the eyes of the man opposite him, all he sees is the boy that he used to love with all his might and he can’t muster up the energy to pretend otherwise. “The summer before you left I realised that my feelings for you weren’t…umm, exactly platonic, that other people don’t feel the same way about their best friends as I did about you."

Louis just stares at him, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I was- I was so in love with you but I didn’t realise it until it was too late and then you… left,” Harry admits and his whole body feels so _wrong_ like this, like it’s not used to being torn apart.

Louis’ face falls a bit but it looks like he’s trying to keep himself together by clenching his jaw. “Oh Harry I… I don’t know what to say,” and he sounds so sad and defeated, like he’s the one to blame for everything and Harry can’t have that.

“It’s not your fault or anything, I didn’t mean to insinuate…” he takes another breath and tries to ease the mood with a small chuckle, trying to find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than daunting. “Obviously it’s a very long time ago and I don’t… I mean, I never told you how I felt so. But I… I just wanted you to know because I…” Louis looks up at him curious and cautious. “Because I… I don’t know, when I saw your picture and your answer I just- how could I not want to see you? How could I not want to tell you that no one else compared for me either?” Harry shuts his mouth resolutely after that, physically stopping any more words from slipping out and laying him bare.

Louis’ eyes glimmer, emotions swivelling in them - mirroring the ocean itself. He reaches over the table and grasps one of Harry’s hands in his, calloused fingers brushing over his knuckles. “I don’t know what to- this is insane, yeah? This is utterly bloody insane.” He looks at Harry like he’s drowning, like he needs Harry to come save him.

“I know… just, okay this got very intense very quickly, sorry ‘bout that, but I just don’t know how to not be frank with you,” Harry says, a small nervous smile playing over his lips.

His smile seems to be contagious because Louis smiles again, the tenseness around his eyes melting away. “That’s alright, I mean, I feel the same way… obviously not being honest with each other didn’t really work out for us in the past, did it?”

Harry’s heart thunders as he turns his hand over and lets his fingers caress the delicate skin of Louis’ wrist. “No, so… what now?” he asks and looks uncertainly over at the other man.

“I was thinking… I mean, ever since I got the call from Nina, I’ve been thinking about what I want to say to you. Wondered why you wanted to get in contact, all of it. And I realised that what I want the most is to just… get to know you again, but this time be honest about my feelings and such. So I guess if you… if you wanted, I would really love to take you out some time,” Louis says and swallows audibly. This isn’t really happening, is it? This is too good to be true. Too surreal.

“I’d love to,” is all he says and Louis lets out a small sigh of relief.

“Great… and erhm, I realise we might not have gotten to that part of the dinner yet but, just so we’re clear, you’re not married or anything right?”

Harry is hopeless to stop the bark of laughter that leaves him, “No, very much a 'bachelor'.”

Louis eyes crinkle up, “Good, me too… I mean, might have an unknown child in every harbour but no husband at least.”

“I love kids so we can work around that I think,” Harry says mock serious and sets Louis off into a loud cackle.

After that they do their best to pull themselves together again, Louis drawing his hand back to his side of the table and they order more wine and some chocolate cake for dessert. Like the sky clearing from heavy clouds it’s like something has been lifted off of their shoulders and it’s easier to talk without the massive elephant stomping around their table. Harry can’t help but to steal glances at the way Louis’ muscles move under his shirt, and how the collar slides down to show the slightest hint of ink hidden underneath it. (He also berates himself for it, the way the sight makes heat shoot through his veins is bloody _absurd_.) Louis is nothing but contradictions and he’s absolutely spell bounding to watch. He’s got dainty wrists that Harry remembers but that he now knows lead to rough strong hands. He’s loud and gentle. He’s 61 years old but doesn’t seem a day over 20. He’s someone who Harry knows so intimately but also needs to relearn all over again.

Most of all, Harry does his best not to lose himself in thoughts of destiny and fate but of course he fails miserably. How many people get a chance to turn a wrong thing right after so many years?

 

\---

 

They decide to meet up for dinner at Louis’ on Thursday the following week and Harry is walking on clouds. He _knows_ he shouldn’t let himself get immersed in this. _Knows_ it’s naïve and will probably end with him having his heart broken. _Knows_ that he doesn’t _actually_ know Louis. (Except he knows that _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ was Louis’ favourite movie growing up, that Louis didn’t talk to his dad for almost a year when he was 15 and that nothing made Louis laugh like Harry’s stupid jokes) Louis could’ve spent the last 36 years having scandalous affairs in every harbour and hate the thought of commitment. But Harry also knows himself and he has literally never, not once in his life, not given in to self-indulgent daydreaming, often with Daphne and her mother as his only anchors to reality.

This time is not an exception and he spends the following days on the phone with Daphne for hours and it’s all very typical - she’s just like her mother. _She_ was the one who said he _had no choice_ but to meet Louis and now she’s the one who tries to tether his fluttering heart to the ground again. “Just be careful dad, he sounds lovely, but you know how you are.” And yes he _knows_. But. It’s _Louis_. And Louis wants to have dinner with him. Louis told him he _can’t wait to see him again_. He tries to turn it around in his head over and over again. Tries to pretend like Louis is someone he just met and that he’s really just keeping an open mind to see where it goes. It’s just that he’s been there before and this is nothing like that. He’s never had his heart beating out of his chest from a single text message saying _See you tomorrow handsome, hope you like mashed potatoes!_ and he’s never wanted to throw himself into something so thoughtlessly before. How do you deal with the knowledge that someone is the love of your life while still trying to keep a level head? It seems impossible.

He’s picked out a bottle of red and is wearing a grey linen shirt and dark grey slacks. His favourite silk scarf hanging untied around his neck. Casual but not sloppy. Or too dressed up. Louis opens the door with a wide grin and welcomes him with a hug. He’s warm and soft and strong and utterly other worldly. How a navy crew neck jumper and dark jeans can make someone look so _enticing_ is beyond Harry but he thinks it might have something to do with how Louis looks at him.

Like he’s been waiting too.

“Oooh fancy wine, would you pour us a glass and dinner will be ready in a bit yeah?” Louis says as they head into the kitchen. The table is already set and Harry pours them a glass each before sitting down. “You had a good week?” Louis asks and throws a glance at him over his shoulder as he’s stirring something on the stove. It smells amazing.

“Yes I did, one of my kids wrote a really beautiful short story, think she’s gonna end up a writer one day,” he says fondly, so proud of the progress he’s seen in her work over the last year.

“That’s lovely, it’s great that you have so much faith in your pupils,” Louis says to him with a smile as he grabs his glass of wine and leans against the counter.

Harry chuckles at that, “Not all of them I’m afraid, some of them spend 99% of the time wishing they were somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I remember what that was like,” Louis says and winks at him, his blue eyes sparkling.

“I guess it’s understandable though, not like I enjoyed maths or chem when we were in school. How was your week?”

“Real good, I mean, I’m going a little stir crazy sometimes, but I’m planning on renovating the backside porch in the summer, give me something to do,” Louis explains.

“Sounds like a good plan, you bought this house recently?”

“When I came back, wanted to settle down properly you know? It’s not the fanciest thing but I like it, reminds me of my mum’s house,” he says as he pulls out a chicken roast from the oven.

“It does,” Harry agrees, “It’s very home-y.” He hasn’t seen that much of the house yet but he can already tell.

Louis smiles at him and puts the food on the table, “Thank you, hope you’ll enjoy the food.”

Harry’s mouth waters at the sight in front of him, chicken, mashed potatoes, sautéd vegetables and the heavenly smelling gravy.

“So heh, I think I was a bit worked up last time, but, you mentioned you have a daughter right?” Louis says and wrinkles his nose at the awkward question. Harry can’t help but smiling at the sight.

“Yeah, her name’s Daphne,” he nods.

“Tell me about her,” Louis enquires and he looks so genuinely interested something warm settles in the pit of Harry’s stomach.

“She’s… she’s amazing, the most clever kid ever,” Harry boasts. “I mean, she turns 30 this year so I guess she’s not a kid anymore heh… anyways, umm, she’s a statistician at the Office for National statistics, don’t ask me how that happened, I blame her mum, but she’s absolutely brilliant, so witty and ambitious, takes care of me a lot.”

Louis laughs at Harry’s rambly gushing, fondness pouring out of his eyes. “She does sound pretty magnificent,” he agrees and continues “Her mum yeah?” failing miserably at sounding as casual as Harry suspects he’s trying to.

“Yeah her mum, Rita, also a maths person,” he explains, sticking to the important facts.

Louis laughs and frowns at the same time, “Alright, good to know, so, you- you were in a relationship with her?”

Harry shakes his head as he chews and swallows, enjoying the way Louis seem a bit impatient to know about his family constellation, “No, we’re friends, met at uni… always talked about how we both wanted kids _soon_ , then all of a sudden we were both close to 30 with no long time partners in sight and we just thought, why not?”

“That’s… that’s actually quite brilliant,” Louis says and sounds impressed. “So you… you just had kids with a mate?”

“Yeah, we moved in together in a house, brought her up together and everything,” Harry explains.

“But you weren’t dating, how does that even work?”

“Well, it helps if both parties are gay, sort of kills off the dating vibe,” Harry smirks and he sees how Louis’ eyes flicker to his dimple.

“ _Oh right_ , I can see that,” Louis says and lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m so thick sometimes, sorry, just, guess I’m a bit of a traditional prick. I’m really impressed though, that you did that.”

“It’s alright, I think 90% of her teachers or parents of her friends’ thought we were a very adorable straight couple,” Harry says. “Never bothered me too much, Daphne always knew and we dated other people so.”

Louis nods carefully as if he’s trying to grasp what Harry just told him.

“What about you then, any kids?” Harry asks, a bit of a curious flutter in his stomach.

“No, never happened for me,” Louis shakes his head. “A bit tricky what with the whole, never staying in one place and not fancying women.”

“Does it bother you? Did you want kids?” Harry asks, hoping he’s not overstepping, but he feels like the boundaries between them are wobbly at best.

“Sometimes,” Louis says honestly, shrugging one shoulder. “But it never would’ve worked out, wouldn’t want to bring a kid into the world and not be there for them you know?”

“No that’s, that makes sense and I mean… you’ve obviously seen more of the world than most people ever get to do, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I know, feel real lucky that way,” Louis says, eyes soft and crinkled up.

“What about… what about relationships then?” Harry asks and heat rises in his cheeks. Still nervous about overstepping but too eager to stop himself.

Louis just smirks and shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe Harry’s straightforwardness. It makes Harry blush even further. “Well…erhm, there’s been a few along the road just… never really settled down, always going rather than staying, people tend to not like that in a partner,” Louis says and shrugs a little.

Harry’s heart rattles in his chest, an anxious knot growing in his stomach.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to though,” Louis continues, as if he just read Harry’s mind like it was second nature. “Just… guess I never found anyone worth staying for.” And then he looks up at Harry with big earnest eyes and Harry’s breath stutters in his chest.

“That’s… that’s understandable,” he mumbles out. His mind is all over the place, the whole situation unfurling something within him. A mix of old memories, _decades_ of daydreams and a man before him so beautiful and honest he finds it difficult to focus.

“What about you? Any long term partners or...?” Louis asks.

“Yeah umm, a few… I mean I… I always wanted…” his voice cracks and he coughs slightly to cover it up. “I always wanted someone to share my life with but in the end I guess… it never turned out the way I’d hoped.”

Louis bites his bottom lip in contemplation, head tipped slightly to the side. “And what did you hope for?”

Harry lets out a self-deprecating chuckle that is tainted by more bitterness than he’d like, “Oh you know, for better, for worse…”

“So you- you never married then?”

Harry shakes his head and “No, me and Rita talked about it for like, practical reasons but then I think we both realised I’m way to romantic for anything like that,” he smiles self-consciously and looks up through his lashes to see Louis’ reaction.

Louis’ smile wobbles something awful like he’s trying not to break out into a full blown grin, “Of course you are, I remember how you used to marry off your teddy bears, you always got very invested in their future happiness.”

Harry takes a deep breath and tries his best not to break into a grin as well, “Well, Mr Hobbles and Bruna always _were_ meant for each other so…”

“Oh, yes of course, and how long did you keep them on your bed again? Throughout all of sixth form?” Louis narrows his eyes as if he’s really wondering, but they’re sparkling so brightly by now it’s impossible not to take notice.

“You _know_ my dad threw them out when I was 13, it was a very traumatic experience for me,” Harry answers with a pout.

Louis gasps dramatically and slaps his forehead, “Oh god, how could I forget!?” Then he sinks back in his chair a little bit and purses his mouth, “That was kind of shitty of him though to be honest.”

“Yeah, didn’t make me any ‘more of a man’ either,” Harry huffs slightly. He has since long come to terms with the fact that it was his father’s words rather then the loss of two teddy bears that had hurt him the most.

Louis looks at him for a few moments, eyes sparkling blue and earnest, “I think you ended up being more of a man than either of our fathers ever were,” he says and leans forward to grasp Harry’s hand in his.

Harry gives him a small smile in answer, his heart taking up so much space in his chest it’s impossible for him to get any words out.

 

\---

 

They spend hours talking about their childhood, being ridiculously nostalgic as they reminisce over their childhood games and all the trouble they got themselves into. Harry tells him about how he’s kept sporadic contact with Liam over the years even after he moved to Southampton for work. Louis tells him about what it was like to grow close to a crew on a ship as you spent every hour of every day with them, how that’s the only kind of family he’s had all these years since his parents passed away. Harry feels like every word out of Louis’ mouth is as important as his next breath. Like he’s been dehydrated, withering away without even noticing for years, and now he gets to dive head first into the warm vibrant blue of Louis. With every laugh escaping him, with every raspy sentence and pointedly lifted eyebrow Harry is mesmerised by how Louis is still so much of the boy from his childhood and early 20s. He is just as energetic and exuberant, hands creating shapes in the air between them as he talks. But he’s also so different. He’s not as snappy and short tempered, where there used to be viciously sharp words there’s now calm understanding. When Harry expects him to make snide comments about someone from their past he instead smiles quietly and says that maybe what happened isn’t so strange, considering the circumstance.

Harry supposes Louis grew up too, as odd as it might seem, and he wonders what changes Louis sees in him. Because surely there are some, even if Harry would like to believe he’s one and the same as the young man who could charm anyone with a flash of dimples and a few well chosen words. He wonders if he comes off as a stiff old English teacher or maybe like someone pathetically clinging onto his younger self. Maybe he’s somewhere in between. Maybe he’s someone else entirely.

Louis is, in any case, a very fascinating man. Just as Harry concluded at their previous dinner, he is definitely the kind of man that would catch Harry’s eye in any setting. He seems so at home in his own body, confident without being arrogant. Someone who has seen the world and let his experiences make him into a better man. Someone who’s witty tongue and easy smile could bring the world to it’s knees and Harry is honestly right there with it. Because it’s clear as day that Harry is just as attracted to this version of Louis as he was to him at 15, 20 or 25. 61 year old Louis is someone Harry can see himself going for afternoon walks with, someone he wants to cook dinner for and spend evenings curled up on the sofa together with. He’s the kind of man he wants to introduce to Daphne and Rita. He’s someone he wants to spend Sundays playing scrabble with and weekends traveling to Paris. He’s the kind of man that makes Harry wish he had the vitality of a 20 year old, but he suspects Louis could make him get closer to that than he has in years.

After dinner they settle onto the sofa with a glass of wine each and they sit close enough to make that warm fuzzy feeling in Harry’s stomach spread down to the tips of his toes and up the back of his neck. Louis is turned slightly towards him, one leg drawn up on the cushion and an arm propped up on the backrest. His knee presses against Harry’s hip slightly and Harry wants to lean into it. He does.

“Dinner was really lovely, thank you so much for inviting me,” Harry says to fill the calm quietness that’s settled between them.

Louis reaches his arm resting on the back of the sofa forwards slightly and lets a gentle finger caress the shell of Harry’s ear. The small touch makes goose bumps erupt down Harry’s side and his breath falter in his chest. “It’s a pleasure, I’m sure you know by now that I think so?” Louis says, voice unwavering but soft.

Harry bites his bottom lip carefully before answering, “I was hoping,” with a small smile.

Louis’ knuckles travel down his cheek and he looks at Harry with so much devotion it’s quite overwhelming. “Harry you… I know we’ve only met twice in the past few decades or so,” he gives a small shrug and a twitch of a smile before continuing, “but I… I want you to know, you still make my heart beat out of my chest. You’re just... you’re so lovely and I can’t believe I get to spend time with you like this.”

Let it be known that Harry doesn’t burst into tears right then and there on Louis Tomlinsons’ grey speckled sofa. He’s just right there on the brink of overflowing with emotion and he doesn’t really know how to comprehend it all. How is he supposed to open his mouth without letting Louis know that he’s already rearranged every atom in his body, every vein pumping blood through his thrumming heart, to be able to give it away? That all it took was a couple of dinners and a gentle touch for Harry to fall handlessly. Or maybe all it took was the first look of those blue eyes after decades of going without.

“I’m…” he coughs slightly, his voice already breaking. “I feel the same. About you.” The admission feels grander than he was expecting.

Louis lets out a shaky breath, his eyes crinkling up at the corners even before his lips curl into a wide smile. “God look at us huh? What a couple of sappy old men we’ve turned into.” His traveling hand finally lands at the base of Harry’s neck, his fingertips gracing the neatly cut hair.

Harry chuckles at that, forever grateful for how disarming Louis is, how he makes it feel easy to open up his chest and pour his heart out for the whole world to watch and ponder. “Yeah, doesn’t seem any better,” he says and meets Louis’ eyes, turning his body so he’s facing him.

“Good thing it’s just us here then, yeah? No one else to watch us make a spectacle out of ourselves”, he grins and Harry can’t help but feel like Louis is taking care of him, making sure he’s happy and comfortable, just the way he always used to do when they were younger.

Harry wants to touch him but he’s not sure how. Louis’ fingers seem to so naturally find their way into the hair strands at the back of his neck, his eyes so comfortably travel over Harry’s features. When Harry doesn’t move, Louis’ fingers grow still, a flicker of uncertainty settling in his blue eyes. “Is this okay? Are you alright?”

Harry nods and smiles reassuringly, “Yes it’s… more than alright I’m just… you make me nervous.”

Louis soothes his hand down Harry’s arm and hangs his head slightly, “I don’t mean to, I just-“

“Hey no, it’s not your fault,” Harry says and finally dares to put his hand against Louis’ cheek. “I mean, it kind of is your fault for being so stunning, but trust me, I really don’t mind.” He goes for cheeky and it seems to work, crinkles instantly deepening around his eyes as Louis smiles.

“You think I’m stunning?” he asks, equal parts teasing and curious.

“You’re breathtaking,” Harry says before he can stop himself and they both blush at his words, Harry’s hand falling into his lap.

“Sure you liked me better at 25 though, now I’m just old and grey,” Louis says, insecurity bleeding through his confident exterior.

Harry takes a few moments to figure out how to put words to his thoughts. “I think the best version of you will always be the one that’s right in front of me,” is what he ends up saying.

Louis snorts at that but is very obviously pleased, then looks up at Harry through long eyelashes, “Well, what would you say if this version wanted to kiss you just as badly as all the other versions of me wanted?"

The next breath Harry takes rattles in his chest, his heart shooting up into his throat. “I’d say I’d like that very much,” he’s able to squeeze out.

Louis takes a deep breath and shuffles even closer to him, his eyes flicker over Harry’s face, lingering on his lips as he leans closer. Something like electricity plays over the surface of Harry’s skin as he feels Louis’ hand against his jawbone and his breath against his cheek.

“You’re so beautiful, so so beautiful,” Louis nearly whispers before his lips meet Harry’s.

And it’s so much more than Harry ever imagined. Because he always dreamed of butterflies in his stomach, shaky breaths and soft lips, and it is all that, but also calloused hands holding his face delicately, tears welling up in two pairs of eyes and lips wobbling into wide grins of equal parts disbelief and elation. His fingers find the deep lines at Louis’ temples, wiping at the wetness collected there and he thinks that from now on he doesn’t want to miss a single tear.

They break apart and breathe in the same air. Share another moment containing hundreds of moments, but this time it consists of moments that never were. Kisses never shared, tearful eyes that never had the opportunity to find comfort and understanding in each other. It is years spent apart that wore down their hearts and shrivelled their thoughts.

It is finding what’s been missing from you. Something that you can feel in every bone of your body should have been yours all along. It is kissing the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on and never wanting to stop.

So he doesn’t. He presses closer yet again and captures Louis lips’ against his and from one moment to the next all hesitation that may have lingered in their bodies falls away and they hold onto each other to not completely fall apart. Harry has one hand still cradling Louis’ head, thumb caressing over his temple and his other hand curls around Louis’ waist to find it fits perfectly into the curve. One of Louis’ hands has found it’s way into Harry’s hair, fingers going through the silvery strands. When Louis’ tongue darts out to smooth over his bottom lip, Harry gasps slightly before opening up and tasting Louis’ warmth.

Harry hasn’t kissed like this in a very long time. Tongues moving together slow and _so_ hot. Kissing in a way that sends a sparkling sensation out through every fibre of his body and it feels like waking up after a very long slumber. He can’t remember the last time a kiss made his toes curl, the tips of his fingers tremble and his ears burn with heat. It’s disorienting because it’s something that he since long considered something of the past. Over the past few years his daydreams have shifted from fantasies of passion and heat to hopes of comfortable companionship. And now there’s _this_.

When they break apart again, Louis leans back into the cushions, giving them both some space to catch their breath. Harry takes in Louis’ ruffled hair, the slow flutter of his eyelashes and the frankly obscene wet shine of his red kissed lips. They breathe heavily as they look at each other and what Harry sees in Louis’ eyes makes his cheeks heat and something hot and dark coil in the bottom of his stomach.

Louis shakes his head slightly and clears his throat, “Erhm, I… I don’t… umm.”

And Harry agrees whole heartedly because he’s not sure where to even begin. “It’s not just me then?” is what he settles for, voice surprisingly rough as he tries for a smile.

“Definitely not just you,” Louis says and answers him with a smile of his own.

“I mean that was… you’re… I’m…”

Louis’ smile widens, the crinkles by his eyes coming out in full bloom, “Yeah, it was.”

Harry desperately needs his heartbeat to settle down, but he feels like something would crumble in his chest if he moved away from Louis. “Is it… would it be okay if I… can I just hold you for a minute?” he mumbles out, his own vulnerability scaring him. He isn’t used to this. His life has fallen into a carefully structured routine where he even at his most spontaneous moments chooses between a few reasonable options like - maybe I should go for a walk or maybe Daphne wants to meet up for dinner tonight? His dating life has consisted of pleasant smiles over fancy restaurant tables and, if he’s lucky, a gentle hand on his back as he makes his way through the Fine Art collection at Manchester Art Gallery for approximately the hundredth time. His life doesn’t include getting snogged speechless by ruggedly handsome men. But on the other hand, the Pre-Raphaelites have never seemed more insignificant than when compared to Louis Tomlinson. And maybe this was what his life was supposed to be like all along. If they had been more honest, been brave enough to voice their thoughts and feelings before it all fell apart, then maybe he’d never seen a single Rembrandt etching but he’s pretty sure he would’ve been fine with that. A lifetime of kisses seem like the most invaluable of treasures.

Louis doesn’t answer him but burrows in close, his nose settling against the hollow of throat and his arms drawing Harry closer by the waist. “I feel so lucky”, he says, voice thin and raspy as if it’s close to breaking. “So god damned lucky, I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Harry has to swallow against the emotions coiling into a hard lump in his throat. His hands sooth down Louis’ back and it hits him again. This is _Louis_ in his arms. Louis. And he’s warm and strong and so earth shatteringly _real_. “Me too, I think I’ve been dreaming since I saw that photo of you.”

“In that case I’ve been dreaming since Nina called and said Harry Styles wants me to give him a call. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more surreal sentence.”

“Is that why it took you a week to call me?” Harry chuckles slightly, his chest an awfully messy mix of air pipes too narrow and butterflies wild.

Louis starts tracing patterns along Harry’s side, fingers pushing slightly into the muscle. “Honestly, it took me a week to work up the courage. For all I knew you could’ve been calling to tell me to go to hell.”

At that Harry lets out a laugh of disbelief and looks down to see Louis’ face. “Did that really seem like a likely possibility?”

Louis grins and leans back slightly, hands still touching, but putting some distance between them so their eyes can meet. “Or maybe I was just scared you’d be as lovely as I remembered.”

The blush that seems more or less permanent on Harry’s cheeks recently intensifies. “And what do you think?” he asks carefully, refraining from biting his bottom lip coyly. Because he might be doing a terrible job of flirting with this incredible man, but he needs to draw the line somewhere.

“I think you’re lovelier than anything, I think, if I’d known it could be like this…” he breaks eye contact and shakes his head in regret. Then he takes a deep breath and seems to steel himself before he looks up again and says, “Harry, I don’t mean to scare you off, but I… I don’t want any more regrets in life and I want you to know I… I want this, I truly do and I just- I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Harry is pretty sure he’s stopped breathing by now as Louis’ words fall into place like puzzle pieces that were lost but are now found after years being stuck between creaky floor boards. Somewhere in his head there’s a quiet but determined voice that sounds an awful lot like his daughter, telling him to be careful, that this could end in tears and bitter heart ache. But it’s easy to push it away because everything other than this has always been an escape and nothing but. Every kiss, every ‘I love you’, every spark of arousal and every morning breath he’s shared with someone has been to escape Louis. To push him out of his system, to forget and to try to not live every second of his life in regret. He knows it’s dramatic. Knows that he’s loved and been loved in return. Knows he’s shared so much laughter and hopeful tears throughout the years. Knows that every time that laughter died out and the tears turned sour, his thoughts went to blue eyes and airy laughter. Knows that the boy he was never able to let go is now sitting in front of him and he is so tired of running.

“I think… I think my heart has been waiting for you,” Harry says, voice surprisingly steady. “I think it’s been yours all along.”

Louis lets out a tight gasp of disbelief, his eyes fluttering between Harry’s as if he’ll get to the punch line eventually. His eyes are the clearest blue Harry has ever seen.

“And mine yours, always yours, _always_ ,” Louis says, tears welling up in his eyes as he pushes closer, hands cradling Harry’s face as he kisses him again. Again and again.

As they smile through the tears, thumbs wiping at their cheeks and eyes sparkling like the sun breaking through ocean waves, Harry thinks that they made it through the storm. Like two ships separated by furious waves that have now, somehow, by some incomprehensible stroke of luck, drifted long enough to find their way back to each other.

He thinks there’s nothing that could convince him to let this go.

 

\---

 

“So? Tell me,” Rita says and leaves no room for him to weasel out of it. They are sitting at her kitchen table, Daphne, her husband Ivan and Rita’s partner Reggie somewhere in the house, and they have made it all through dinner before she raises a sharp eyebrow and bores her gorgeous brown eyes into him. Harry has always loved her eyes, always found so much comfort in them, but right this moment he finds himself very sceptic of this fact.

“Umm, we’ve… I’ve been seeing him…Louis, I’ve been seeing him,” he says and he knows Rita probably thinks he’s got some explaining to do, but all he feels at the thought of Louis and him seeing each other is untamed excitement and a warm glow in his chest. Over the last three weeks they’ve been meeting up for evening walks, a few cups of tea and another couple of dinners. Every moment shared with the other man has made him long for more. They talk for hours about the past, about the present and sometimes, with carefully hopeful looks, about the future. And they touch. They touch in a way that Harry hadn’t realised he’s been missing. The way you touch someone that you can’t ever get enough of, when just a brush of fingers and gentle kiss sends you reeling. They hold hands when they walk through the neighbourhood, plant soft kisses at the nape of the other’s neck when they’re rinsing off the plates, lean into each other as they sit on the sofa and Louis shows him photos from his years at sea. They kiss for hours and hours on the sofa instead of watching whatever excuse they’ve used for the night on TV.

However, Rita hasn’t yet witnessed any of that. Hasn’t seen the gentle way Louis looks at him when they see each other after a couple of days apart. Harry hasn’t yet told her about the way he can’t seem to pull away when Louis kisses him _like_ _that_. So her scepticism isn’t unexpected when she says, “You’ve been seeing the man that went out at sea, broke your heart and basically never talked to you again?” always heading straight to the point. And the things is, he knows that at least half of it is all an act, her taking it upon herself to guard his fragile heart since they both know how careless he tends to be with it.

“Well, he didn’t know I was in love with him, _as you know_ , and honestly,” he says and breaks into a wide grin, “I couldn’t care less, I just- it’s _Louis_ , and for some reason I’ve been given a second chance, I mean… you of all people should know what this means to me.”

He sees the corner of her mouth twitch as if she’s fighting the urge to smile back at him, her eyebrow still raised and she purses her lips in contemplation. “I know but I also know I spent _years_ helping you move on after he left so…”

“Sorry to point out the obvious, but it never really worked did it? Years wasted that was,” Harry concludes, desperately wanting to move on to the more pleasant part of their regular back and forth.

“Don’t tell your daughter you said that,” Rita shoots back and Harry rolls his eyes at her, because they’ve had conversations like this for over three decades.

“You _know_ that’s not what I mean and that she’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” and now it’s his turn to bore his eyes into her, and eventually she crumbles, like always.

“Alright, alright, so, what’s he like? That perfect bubble butt you used to go on about must’ve fallen down an inch or two.”

Harry would honestly gasp at her rudeness but he knows his cheeky smirk will get to her even better, “It is _perfectly fine_ right where it is, for your information.”

“Ungh okay, you win, but he’s alright then?” and now she’s just smiling fondly at him. What did it take, a couple minutes to get her on his side? It’s an art form he’s perfected over the years.

“He’s really, _really_ lovely, like… you’ll understand when you meet him but, he’s honestly more than I could ever ask for, more than I could ever-"

“Hey now, I’ll have you know the father of my child deserves nothing but the best so,” she says and now her eyes are back to that comforting warmth that he loves so much.

“Yeah yeah, well he is. I mean I was… I was a bit scared I’d let my fantasy version of him overshadow the real person that he’s become you know? But like. He’s even better than I could’ve imagined.”

Rita stares at him for a few silent moments, a small frown between her eyebrows. “Wow you’re really smitten, aren’t you? Like a teenager.”

Harry feels his cheeks burn but can’t help another smile from dimpling his cheeks. “I guess I am.” Then it takes him another few seconds before he gets indignant, “And don’t you act like Reggie doesn’t make you giggle like a school girl still, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

“You’re a delusional old man Harry Styles, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

An hour later they’re all gathered in the living room to watch crap prime time television and Harry’s thoughts wander as they so often do. Rita is curled up next to Reggie, the two women who’ve been his best friends and role models in so many ways in life. And then there’s his wonderful, brilliant, genius daughter, legs sprawled out over her husband’s lap as she shovels popcorn into her mouth. His family. His people. The people who’ve carried him on their shoulders for years and years, the people he’s done his best to be there for in return. Then he thinks of the wonderful man he’s seeing again tomorrow and how he somehow seems to be the last missing piece to everything Harry’s ever wanted.

 

\---

 

He knows that, logically, being apart from Louis for three days shouldn’t be such a difficult task after spending 36 years mostly on different continents. But it is. Every moment that passes feels like time lost and he checks the time over and over again all through Saturday. Louis had suggested he come by his house at 6 for dinner. He’d also suggested Harry pack an overnight bag. So. There’s that. Harry hasn’t packed an overnight bag for… _no_ , he doesn’t even want to start counting.

As usual he spends quite some time picking an outfit, even though he’s pretty sure Louis doesn’t care all that much about what he’s wearing. It gives him something to do though, a sense of control in this situation where it feels like he’s free falling. He’s still a bit in disbelief that it’s _Louis_ he’s seeing, regularly kissing, and that _Louis_ wants him just as much in return.

He goes with dark jeans and a knitted forest green jumper in hope Louis will like the way it brings out the colour of his eyes. It takes him a while to pack his bag because he’s not entirely sure what to bring. Does he bring pyjamas? What is even considered proper pyjamas at his age? Will Louis even be seeing him in said pyjamas or is this a guest room sort of event? He really hopes it’s not, but he can’t think too much about that without blushing furiously. He settles for grey joggers and a white t-shirt and shoves the items into the bag, it will have to do.

 

\---

 

Louis has made a Shepard’s pie that they eat at the dinner table, candles lit and red wine poured into their glasses. He’s absolutely gorgeous. A dark blue Henley hugs his upper body in a way that has Harry struggling not to stare. His strong shoulders and toned arms contrasting with his slight waist and the curve at the small of his back. The most stunning thing about him has always been his smile though and his eyes seem to sparkle as he looks at Harry over the table. His hand has found Harry’s and the rough pad of his thumb travels over Harry’s knuckles.

“You’re really handsome tonight,” Louis says, a shy smile on his lips and that dark blue honesty in his eyes that makes Harry’s heart speed up. “I mean you always are but…” he trails off and squeezes his hand slightly.

Harry tries to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks as he smiles back at the other man, “Thank you and you look stunning as always.”

He expects Louis to derail the compliment with a joke, but he just keeps looking at him with serious eyes. “I still can’t believe I get to spend time with you like this, I wake up every morning and then I can’t stop smiling because I… you make me so happy. Make me feel like I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

The next few breaths stutter in Harry’s chest, the warm glowing feeling in is stomach flaring up. “Oh Lou…” he says, his gaze dropping to his lap for a moment, the tears burning behind his eyelids threatening to fall, before he dares looking up at Louis again. “I’m the lucky one, truly. I… to be honest I was quite convinced I’d have scared you off by now.”

Louis lets out a small chuckle of disbelief as he frowns slightly, “Scared me off? What are you talking about? There is literally nothing that could make me not want to see you, _nothing_.” He reaches out so both his hands holds Harry’s bigger one.

Harry places his other hand on top of Louis’, always wanting to be closer. “I don’t… I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to relationships. People tend to think I’m too…”

“Too what?” Louis asks incredulously. “Too kind? Too sweet and loving? Too clever or funny? Too charming perhaps?” Harry feels his cheeks twitching into a smile, Louis teasing eyes too hard to resist. “Or is it that you’re just so beautiful they can’t stand to look at you?”

Harry shakes his head slightly, smile now wide enough to dimple his cheeks. “I don’t know, too naïve? Too romantic? Too airheaded?”

“Too romantic? Really? Is that even a thing?” Louis reaches one hands up to thumb at Harry’s dimple.

“You know what I mean, how I want things to… well, I told you I’ve always wanted more than to just… settle? That I dream up these unlikely scenarios and… people get tired of it. They want someone who’s realistic with like… ‘both feet on the ground’.”

Louis’ thumb continues to dip into Harry’s dimple in a small circular motion and he looks absolutely unwavering when he says, “Then they’re bloody idiots.” When Harry just shrugs he drops his hand to Harry’s again and continues. “I mean it, it was always one of my favourite things about you… the way you’d make everything just a bit magical. Like… everything we did, even if it was just a stupid prank or lazing around, it felt like it meant something because you made it so. It was all part of Harry Styles’ big adventure.”

Harry laughs quietly at that, because he also quite clearly remembers being told off for daydreaming in class and for breaking into private property to look at the stars.

“It was one of the reasons I fell so hard for you, it was impossible not to.”

It’s a bit difficult to take it all in. How every word they say to each other is laced with nostalgia and traces of sadness but also so much hope for the future. “How-“ Harry starts and has to swallow against the thickness in his throat. He hasn’t quite made up his mind about whether he wants to know what he’s about to ask or not. “How long were you…?” is as far as he gets.

Louis eyes melt into something soft, “Honestly… I don’t think I can remember a time when I wasn’t. I mean… the first time I knew what it meant was when you kissed Lydia Greg when you were still in primary, could’ve lived without that experience thank you very much.”

Harry can’t help the squawk of a laugh that escapes him, “How do even remember that? God, I don’t think I even remembered her name till just now!”

“I spent like three years hating on that poor girl, I think that least thing I can do is remember her name.”

It’s mind baffling to hear Louis’ version of events that happened in the past. Like they’ve lived in parallel universes with completely different senses of logic. “I can’t believe I was so blind, so stupid, if I’d just know I-“

“Hey no, please don’t do that. There’s no use, trust me. The important thing is we’re here now, like… you’re actually here with me right now and I’m happier than I’ve been in so _so_ long.”

Harry lets out a sighs of relief then, allowing his regrets to fall to the back of his mind, “Yes, you’re right. I never thought I’d get to feel like this again.”

Louis smiles softly and reaches up and to grace Harry’s cheek with the back of his hand, “I’d really like to kiss you right now, so do you think we could clean off the table and move to the sofa?”

He gets a wide grin and a nod in return, “Absolutely.”

 

\---

 

Louis’ hands are in Harry’s hair, scratching and pulling slightly as their tongues slide together. The sensation sends shivers of pleasure down Harry’s spine and he pulls the other man closer by the waist. They have kissed plenty since they started seeing each other, but it’s never been like this before. Harry feels like his whole body is thrumming with it, heart beating wildly in his chest and heat coils in is stomach, pulsing down into his groin. Every breath is a rattling through his chest and Louis is so much. His small curvy waist deliciously soft under Harry’s hands, his lips insistent and eyelashes resting long and pretty against his sharp cheekbones. And Harry is scared. Everything feels like it’s spinning out of control and there is still so much uncertainty stirring in his mind. Half- broken thoughts whirling around, constantly interrupted by a small breathy moan against his lips or a thumb pressing against his pulse point. He hasn’t wanted like this in years. Hasn’t felt this desperate need to press close, to taste, to love so intimately. He can’t recall ever feeling quite like this and it scares him because he barely knows where to next put his hands on Louis’ body. He just wants _so much_.

When Louis’ thigh slides in between his own, Harry can feel his arousal pressing against him and it makes them both break away with a gasp. Louis looks at him with so much warmth and want it pulls yet another gasp from Harry’s lips.

“Love, you… you need to tell me what you…” Louis starts and then interrupts himself, taking a calming breath and closing his eyes for a moment. When he continues he’s not even a touch more collected. “Tell me what you, please I… tell me to stop if you, shit Harry…”

Somehow the desperate tone in Louis’ voice and the searching look in his eyes make the whirring thoughts in Harry’s mind settle. “I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”

Louis takes a deep breath and rests his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, “Are you sure?”

Harry lets his hands travel up Louis’ back, warm and steady. “Yes.”

The strong muscles of Louis’ back relax slightly and Louis nuzzles his nose below Harry’s jaw. “I think I have to tell you though… I feel a little bit like I’m out of my depth here.”

“How do you mean?” Harry asks, not sure if he should be worried or feel reassured by this fact.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted anyone like this… in years, if ever, and I’m…” he burrows in even closer, hiding his face against Harry’s throat. “It’s been a while since I…”

“Well then that makes two of us,” Harry says, a mix of affection and arousal surging through his body at Louis’ words.

His words in turn seem to give Louis the courage to leave his hiding place as he leans back to look at Harry. “Yeah? That’s… good,” he says, voice soft.

Harry feels heat rise in his cheeks before the words have even left his mouth, but he doesn’t let it deter him, “Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

Louis looks at him like he’s the single most wondrous thing in the world before pressing his lips softly against Harry’s. “Can we… is it alright if we stop snogging on the sofa and move this to the, erhm, bedroom?” he says, half joking, half bashful.

For the second time that night Harry agrees with Louis’ enquiry of changing their location, the blush high on Louis’ cheeks as he leads him towards the bedroom the most delicious shade of pink.

They stand to the side of the bed, both of them embarrassingly shy and uncertain. Harry reaches out and grasps at Louis’ shirt, his fingers hesitating half way there before finally finding their way into the fabric, a soft “Can I?” leaving his lips and Louis nods.

Harry pulls the hem of Louis’ shirt up, exposing inch by inch of skin and he swallows at the sight. Louis’ stomach and chest is covered in tattoos, some a faded green shade and others a starker black. They contrast against his skin that seems somehow permanently golden tanned. Louis reaches his arms up and lets Harry pull his shirt off all the way and then stands quietly as Harry’s eyes rake over his body, arms bending slightly against his sides. The muscles of his shoulders, arms and chest curve almost elegantly and the skin of his stomach looks so soft and inviting. Dark, grey speckled hair dusts his chest and a line down from his bellybutton into his trousers. Just as Louis seems to have had enough of the ogling, an uncomfortable twitch of his lips before he opens his mouth to say something, Harry lets his thoughts fall out and fill the air between them.

“You look incredible, just… so…” he says and dares to reach out and land his palms on Louis’ chest, the skin warm and smooth.

Louis narrows his eyes and frowns slightly, his disbelief clear. “Not exactly what it used to be,” he says, gaze dropping to the floor.

Harry curls his palm against his cheek, urging him to lift his head. “First of all, it’s not like either of us are 30 anymore so I hope you don’t expect that from me either, but also, trust me, you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, just the way you are right now. Right here in front of me.”

They get lost in each other’s eyes for moment before Louis kisses him again, first on the lips and then trailing down the line of his jaw and further down his neck. Harry marvels in the feeling of Louis’ naked skin under his hands. Then Louis’ hands find the hem of Harry’s shirt and tugs at it, Harry quickly catching on and pulls the shirt over his head together with his undershirt. Louis honestly looks a bit baffled as he looks at Harry’s naked skin, almost enough that Harry would laugh if he wasn’t so nervous.

When Louis meets his eyes he looks nearly accusing, “How are you this fit? You’re a sodding English teacher!”

Harry laughs, happy for the tension breaker. “I enjoy exercising,” he says with a shrug.

Louis scoffs slightly, but a grin spreads over his face. “This is ridiculous,” he concludes as his fingers travel across Harry’s chest. “Is there anything about you that isn’t bloody incredible?

“Well you haven’t seen the rest of me yet,” Harry winks and nods down towards his crotch. Cheeks burning again at his own silly joke.

For some reason Louis doesn’t react with laughter but lets his face fall into an expression that looks more like hunger. “Then show me.”

They both unzip their own trousers and Louis pulls away the covers for them to crawl under, the only thing separating them now the thin fabric of their pants. Harry gets caught up in the feeling of skin against skin as they kiss, their hands traveling up over backs and down their sides. The heat that had settled during their trip from the living room fires up again and Harry can feel Louis grow thick against his hip. Soon enough, they’re both trembling with how worked up they are, breaths heavy between them, Louis emitting the most mouth watering airy gasps as he rolls his groin against Harry.

“Please…” Louis grunts out, a desperate note in voice.

“Please what? What do you want?” Harry asks, trying to catch Louis’ gaze to search for an answer but Louis just keeps his eyes shut, breathing heavily against Harry’s shoulder.

“Would you… I want to… shit,” Louis stills against him, his hands clutching Harry’s shoulders.

“It’s alright, it’s okay, whatever you want,” Harry says, smoothing his hands up Louis’ back.

Louis plants a small kiss on Harry’s shoulder, his lips moving against his skin as he answers. “I want you inside of me.”

The way he says it, with so much vulnerability and yearning, has Harry’s heart running amok and arousal making his hard cock jump against his stomach. It’s safe to say Harry hasn’t been this hard in decades and it makes his head swim with all the blood relocating in his body. “ _Yes_.”

Louis gives a short nod and pulls away from him, still avoiding Harry’s gaze. Harry gets a bit confused about what’s happening until Louis pulls out the bedside drawer and comes back with a condom and lube. Those two items in and of themselves make Harry’s mouth go dry. Whenever he’s thought about this in the past few weeks, he’s always focused on the closeness, of feeling Louis next to him, of making love. Those two items makes it glaringly obvious that what they’re about to do isn’t going to be covered in a soft pink shimmering glow, but will rather be astoundingly real, sweaty and gritty. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more ever in his life. The realisation gives him a boost of confidence as he grasps that this isn’t about creating a perfect fantasy, but about him giving himself to Louis in every way he finds possible. Since he in so many ways already has, this doesn’t feel quite as daunting as he first thought it might. And he needs Louis to be right there with him on the same page.

He drags his fingers through the hair at Louis’ neck, pulling him in for a short sweet kiss. “I want you in every way I can have you, okay? And I want you to have me, any way you want. There’s no…shame in that.”

Louis eyes flash with something fierce, his eyebrows drawn together, “I’m not ashamed, _ever_ ,” he says with strong conviction and Harry briefly wonders what lies behind the fervour of his statement. “I’m just...” he tampers off, heat lost as quickly as it came. “I haven’t been with anyone like that for a really, _really_ long time… just. Go slow, okay?”

Harry’s heart swells with his affection for this man, so devastatingly fierce and strong and yet so beautifully gentle and earnest. “Of course, I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” Louis says and then gives him a small cheeky smile, rose colouring his cheeks, “I really think we need to get going though, not sure I’ll be able to keep this up much longer.”

Harry chuckles at that and gives him another kiss. “Don’t you worry love, I’ll get you there.”

And he does. He opens Louis up one finger at a time, listening carefully for any signs of discomfort. Louis mostly keeps his eyes shut, breathing deep and letting out quiet whimpers as Harry twists his fingers inside him, his hands holding onto Harry’s biceps. Eventually he tells Harry that he’s ready, and Harry wastes no time putting on the condom and slicking himself up. As he pushes inside the tight wet heat, Louis grinds his jaw together and Harry leans down to plant kisses over the tense muscle, finally finding his lips and then they melt together. When he’s burrowed all the way inside Louis, they stay like that for awhile and it’s not until Louis opens his eyes, a smile on his lips as he reaches up to wipe at the corners of Harry’s eyes, that Harry realises he’s crying.

“Hey now, love, no tears,” Louis says and his voice his so raspy and beautiful it makes even more tears blurry Harry’s vision. He smiles through it though, his chest blooming with the love he feels for the man underneath him.

“You’re just so beautiful, so perfect to me,” Harry says and carefully knocks his forehead against Louis’ temple, planting a kiss against his cheek. Then he starts moving his hips, sliding slowly inside him and Louis gasps at the sensation, eyes closed again and his head falling back against the pillows. “Is this alright, do you feel good?” Harry can’t help but asking.

Louis nods and when he opens his eyes to look at Harry again there’s a glimmering shine there too. He smiles and nods again, “Yes, oh god,” he laughs incredulously. “I forgot how good this feels.”

Harry laughs with him and reaches down to take Louis’ cock in his hand, working his hand slowly over the shaft. He knows he won’t last much longer himself and he desperately wants Louis the get there first, twisting his fist over the head of his cock. Louis’ breathy laugh is interrupted by a long raspy groan, “Oh god, I’m… this will be over very soon,” he breathes out but doesn’t seem at all bothered by the prospect. Harry isn’t either. His stamina is definitely not what it once was and having Louis like this, trembling underneath his hands, salty skin against his lips and gorgeous sounds, has him careening towards his orgasm.

When Louis tenses up, muscles going taut and his mouth a perfect O as he comes over Harry’s fist, Harry’s head spins with how he can’t believe this is happening. Louis is so incredible underneath and around him it doesn’t take him more than another few thrusts before he spills into the condom.

As soon as the strongest wave of pleasure settles down, Harry is hopeless to the swell of emotion bubbling up inside him. He looks at Louis’ relaxed face, a thin sheen of sweat over golden tan cheekbones, his hair sticking to his temples and eyes so blue Harry would go breathless if he wasn’t nearly hyperventilating. Leaning down to press small kisses over Louis’ cheeks, the tears well up in his eyes again and he can’t stop the words that fall out of his mouth. “I love you, god I love you so much.”

Louis circles his arms around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him close to his chest. “I love you too, my love, so much. So, so much.”

They stay close for another few minutes before making their way into the bathroom to clean up a bit and brush their teeth. When they get back to bed Harry cuddles up close to Louis’ warmth, arms encircling each other, now pressing closer with the only intent to be as close as they physically can. They share short sweet kisses and whispered words as their eyelids move slow and then eventually falls shut as Louis’ hands clutch Harry’s between them.

 

\---

 

For the first time in years Harry wakes up with a warm body pressing up against his back, an arm holding him close by the waist, and he’s smiling before he even opens his eyes. He’d love to stay right where he is, but he’s in desperate need for the bathroom and to stretch out his back.

When he comes back to the bed, Louis is awake, leaning against the pillows and making every daydream Harry has ever had pale in comparison. “Good morning,” he says as he makes it back under the covers, shivering slightly from his quick visit to the loo.

“Good morning, love,” Louis says, voice raspy with sleep, his smile the most gentle thing Harry’s ever seen.

Harry puts his head on Louis’ shoulder and starts tracing the shapes on Louis’ chest and stomach. “Tell me about them,” he asks and plants a kiss on Louis’ sternum.

Louis chuckles at that. “All of them? There’s quite a few stories there,” he says and raises an amused challenging eyebrow at Harry.

Biting his bottom lip in contemplation, Harry tilts his head slightly to the side. “Maybe just a few now and the rest later?”

He receives a peck to the lips in answer before Louis starts telling him about the bird he got in Malaysia and that healed poorly because he got the worst case of stomach bug right after. Harry laughs when he raises his arm and shows him the little monkey face he has right underneath his armpit, that he got after losing a bet against one of his men.

It’s not until Harry reaches out and pulls Louis’ hand into his lap, his thumb gracing over the numbers etched over two of Louis’ fingers, that Louis quiets down a bit.

“What does this mean?” Harry asks curiously, glancing up at Louis through his eyelashes.

Louis’ hand twitches slightly, as if he’s stopping himself from pulling away. A small bashful smile flickers over his lips. “Of course you’d ask about that one…” he mumbles and then speaks up a bit, “Heh erhm, we… we said we’d to stick to honesty yeah?” he says and looks at Harry for confirmation as if there’s a chance he’d changed his mind.

“Yeah- I mean, of course but, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” Harry rushes out, heat rising in his cheeks at the thought of making Louis uncomfortable.

An airy laugh leaves Louis’ mouth and he bites his bottom lip and leans his head back against the pillows as he looks at Harry. “It’s just a bit embarrassing is all,” he says and something in his eyes makes Harry’s flush travel all the way down his neck.

Harry lets out a small chuckle and frowns a bit, “Okay…? Why?”, not knowing the reason behind Louis’ embarrassment.

“Well erhm, I was young, it was just a few months after I left and I was very… I missed you a lot, those first few months and I guess I just… I guess I was just a bit emotional and wanted something to remind me of you.”

“What- what does it mean?” Harry asks, not entirely sure he’s still breathing.

“Remember when we went up to your aunt’s cabin the spring before I left? Liam and Jacob were supposed to come with but Liam got sick and Jacob, I guess he had to work or something.

Harry fuzzily remembers getting drunk by the fire place and sharing the pull out sofa. “Yeah, we went anyways, just the two of us.”

Louis smiles fondly and looks a bit lost in the memory, “So, maybe it’s a bit silly, but… that was the best day of my life so that’s what it stands for… the 28th of May.”

Harry tries to remember what would’ve made that weekend so special for Louis. He’s sure they’d had a good time, but they always did. “Why was it the best day?” he enquires, studying Louis’ face carefully.

“You were… you told me you’d stopped seeing the girl your were with and then you said you didn’t mind because you got to be there with me instead and… just. I was so happy that day. It was like… nothing else mattered, it was just you and me and that’s all I ever wanted,” he says and laughs a little self deprecatingly. “I was really just, young and stupid and so in love with you I could hardly think.”

“I loved you,” is what Harry says to that. “I might not have realised it yet, but I loved you. So much and I- I know it doesn’t matter now but… you were my entire world.”

Louis smiles fondly at him, only a trace of sadness there as he brings Harry’s hand up to his lips and kisses his knuckles slowly, one by one. “And you were mine. We both… we both made mistakes and…” he chuckles again. “Who knows, maybe we would’ve torn each other apart? Maybe we would’ve spent the last couple of decades hating each other.” Their eyes meet and they both know how far away from the truth that is. “And anyways, if I’d stayed you wouldn’t have Daphne, you probably never even would’ve met Rita and that’s. That’s not right either, is it?”

Harry shakes head in agreement, “No, you’re right… maybe this is what it was always supposed to be. You and me, like this.”

Louis kisses him then with soft dry lips.

“Yes love, and I think we finally found our way back home.”

 

\---

 

**1 year later**

Louis brings a pitcher of iced tea out to the backside porch, setting it down on the table and sits down, leg nervously jumping before he quickly stands up again and starts pouring the tea into plastic cups.

“Jesus Louis, calm down will you? You’re giving me the jitters,” Rita says to him from where she’s laying back in one of the recliners, appearing the perfect picture of calm and collected. Louis knows she’s probably anything but.

Reggie sits in one of the chairs around the table and gives him a teasing smile. “You better do what she says, or you know how it goes.”

Louis stares back at the both of them in disbelief, “But how are you so _calm_? And where _are they_?”

“They’ll be here when they’ll be here, and to think I considered you the reasonable one out of the two of you…” Rita huffs at him but gladly accepts the cup of icy tea when he offers.

Louis can’t help smiling at her words, because had she been here this morning she wouldn’t have made that comment. Harry had run around the house for hours until Louis didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Packing and repacking bags that he moved from the bedroom to the living room sofa, to the kitchen and then back to the bedroom. Doing the dishes one moment and then, seemingly unprompted, leaving the filled up sink in a hurry to head into the guestroom, all the while talking to Louis in rushed, barely comprehensible sentences.

Now though, Harry is on his way back from picking up Daphne, Ivan and _her_.

Having finished off his own cup of iced tea in a few huge gulps, he’s just about to pour himself another one when he hears the car against the gravel on the other side of the house. His heart beats heavily against his ribcage and he stares at the glass door leading into the house. He hears voices and then car doors slamming shut, can hear them making their way into the house and a few moments later he sees Ivan come into the living room and head towards the porch, Daphne and Harry in tow. Louis eyes flit over all three of them, searching for the one person that he _really_ wants to meet.

“Hi everyone,” Ivan greets them, cheerful but not too loud.

And then Daphne comes out through the door and Louis nearly stops breathing. Because there in Daphne’s arms is the single most important person who has ever existed.

Daphne looks at him with warm, knowing eyes as she makes her way over to him.

“Say hi to your granddaughter, grandpa,” Daphne says and reaches the bundle of blankets over to him as he sits speechless.

He stands up and takes the baby with gentle hands and holds her against the crook of his arm, hand carefully supporting the head. When he looks down and sees her scrunched up face, a jet black tuft of hair on top of her head, he knows that he’s never loved anyone more in his life.

“Hello,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “Aren’t you a gorgeous thing?”

The tiny person in his arms blinks up at him with big brown eyes and gurgles out spit all over her chin. He’s absolutely delighted and looks up at the other’s who have now gathered around him. When he meets Harry’s eyes they shine with tears, dimples deep in his cheeks, and Louis knows he probably looks as swallowed up by love as Harry does. “She’s perfect,” he says and looks at Daphne, then Rita and then back to Harry. “Look at her, she’s absolutely perfect.”

Harry curls an arm around him and leans his chin down to rest against his shoulder. “She is, isn’t she? Our granddaughter,” Harry says and he sounds about as astounded as Louis feels.

They let him hold her for another few minutes before Reggie gets impatient and begs to take over. Reluctantly he puts the baby in the hands of her grandmother and then he throws himself into Harry’s arms, hiding his tear stained face against his husband’s chest. Harry chuckles slightly and holds him close, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You alright darling?” Harry asks, as lovely and sweet as ever.

Louis takes a deep breath to calm himself down as he pulls away slightly to meet Harry’s eyes. “I don’t know, I’ve just met someone I love more than I love you, I didn’t think that was possible.”

Harry laughs again, a few happy tears falling down his cheek. “You know what? I’m not even a little upset about it either,” he says and leans down to kiss him.

“You two saps, come take a picture with us instead of sucking face,” Rita hollers at them and they break apart with huge grins plastered on their faces.

When he looks into Harry’s eyes, he knows that he can’t regret a single thing in his life, because this is exactly where he was always meant to end up.

This is the harbour his heart always knew he would find.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed ❤
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr.](http://gaycousinlarry.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And here's a tumblr post if you want to [reblog.](http://gaycousinlarry.tumblr.com/post/159087107323/moments-of-memories-written-by-momentofclarity) Thank you!


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